A Demonic Grace
by Disera
Summary: After being stalked by demons and an eye opening run in with the Winchesters, Grace is officially introduced to the King of Hell. Without hesitation she makes a deal; a deal for a purpose. And Crowley gives her one.
1. Chapter 1

As per-usual, Grace was sitting on the patio of her favorite coffee house, sipping a latte and trying to pretend her life wasn't real. That this was all just some twisted dream she'd eventually wake up from. She blew lightly on the surface of her drink just to watch the cloud of steam push further into the cold air. Focusing on the cloud, she almost didn't notice the eyes of the man across the patio flash black. Almost.

This was nothing new for Grace, though, looking back on it, it hadn't been happening for long. Maybe a month. It seemed like everywhere she went there was someone in the distance, staring at her with those black as night eyes. She didn't know what they were or what they wanted from her, but she felt a surprising lack of fear. She was more curious than anything. Of course, she wasn't sure she hadn't finally gone insane.

Life for Grace had been less than ideal. She grew up in the suburbs and went to public school just like normal people. She was attractive and on an average scale of intelligence. Her father was some kind of accountant and her mother made cash on the side by making her own jewelry. Regardless of this perfectly average setup, the devil was in the details.

Though no one bothered to notice, both of her parents were abusive in their own ways. Her father, psychologically, and her mother, physically and verbally. She never felt wanted or appreciated or loved. Affection wasn't something she experienced in anyone but strangers and a few good teachers. All the friends she'd ever made as an adolescent were more acquaintances than anything, as she wasn't permitted to communicate with them outside of school.

It wasn't until college that she was able to transform herself into someone who at least resembled a normal person. She made friends, had boyfriends, went to parties. Regardless of the loveless life she'd live up to that point she discovered that she was a friendly and empathetic person. To some degree, she was happy for the first time.

After her academic career was over, however, she was left alone. All her friends went their separate ways and her focus in life was just to stay on her feet. That happiness quickly dulled to a numb throb somewhere between hoping for the best and wishing she were dead. Which brings us to the present.

Grace took a sip of the hot liquid, enjoying the feeling of warmth traveling through her cold body. She watched the man who's eyes had been momentarily black as he folded his newspaper, stood, and walked back into the cafe. There was nothing strange about him. He was young and dressed nicely. She figured he worked at some big company doing something boring and soul sucking.

She looked back to the people walking on the street and thought about her own job. She worked at a library, so it wasn't bad. It was quiet and full of curious people. She enjoyed being surrounded by all that knowledge. Her coworkers were pleasant and gave her the space she required, though sometimes she wished they wouldn't.

A tic along her spine woke her from her thoughts and caused her head to tilt to the left. She shook it and rolled her shoulders before taking another sip of her latte. Her eyes rose to meet those of a well dressed man across the street. From what she could see, he wore black from head to toe. Something about his sly expression was charming.

A smirk formed on the man's face and Grace smiled back politely. Her body was tense at the thought of him coming to sit with her, but it only took a second for that to be the furthest thing from her mind. Suddenly, his eyes flushed to a deep crimson and his smile grew. All the breath seemed to be sucked out of Grace's lungs. Then she blinked and he was gone.

Grace stared for a moment at the spot where the man had been. Her cup clattered as she set it rather clumsily on it's dish. She rubbed her eyes and sat for a moment with her face in her gloved hands, suddenly certain she was losing it. People don't disappear and their eyes don't turn black or red. Something was wrong with her.


	2. Chapter 2

On her way to work she tried not to think about the abrupt loss of her sanity, but those eyes were burned into her mind. The man across the street was clearly different from the others she'd seen. Not only were his eyes red instead of black, but he had acknowledged her. The others looked, sure, but their gaze was nothing but a cold stare. Almost like a warning. The other man's gaze had been an invitation; playful and sinister.

She was paying so little attention that she ran her hip right into the jagged edge of a car.

"Hey!" The deep voice made her jump out of her skin. Her startled eyes rose to meet the eyes of one of the most attractive men she'd ever seen.

"I'm sorry!" She exclaimed, hands raised as she jumped away from the car.

"Watch where you're going, Jesus," He continued to grumble under his breath as he rubbed at the car with his coat sleeve.

"Dean!" Another man said in a scolding tone. This one was so tall he towered over Grace. She wasn't sure she'd ever seen anyone so tall in person.

"Sorry about him," The new man said to Grace with a tight smile.

"It's okay. I wasn't paying attention," Grace smiled back sheepishly, her eyes drawn to the car she'd run into. It was a classic American muscle car. Something one didn't see often in the city.

"Yeah, you weren't," The first man, Dean, grumbled as he finally walked away from the car, facing her.

"Sorry, again. It's not scratched is it?" She asked, just out of politeness. She knew there was no way anything on her could have scratched it. Honestly, she was surprised the impact had even hurt to any degree considering the thickness of her fluffy coat.

"No, Baby's fine," He assured her, huffing as he stuffed his hands in his coat pockets.

"Good," Grace smiled more easily, seeing the charm in a man who nicknames his car. However, she quickly realized she was standing outside her work with two strangers and nothing to talk about.

"Um," She cleared her throat. "So, are you going to the library?" She asked, glancing from one man to the other.

"Ah, yes, actually," The taller one said, seeming relieved to be moving on.

"Okay, well, I work here so if you're looking for anything specific just let me know," Grace offered, glad to be on to a less tense subject. Something about her work and the ability to help people relaxed her.

"That would be great!" The taller one spread his arms, seeming to relax as well. "We're actually looking for some books on local lore and history," This surprised Grace and perked her up. History was something she loved and it was a rare surprise when someone else shared her interest.

"I know just the place," Her tone brightened and the three began walking into the building.

"Is there anything specific about the city you're looking for?" She asked as she took of her gloves and coat at the door and hung them up.

"Anything tragic and bloody," Dean said. The taller one rolled his eyes and pulled something out of his coat, holding it out for Grace to see. It was an FBI badge.

"We're investigating the recent murders. At this point, we've got nothing," He sighed heavily. "So, we were hoping we'd get some kind of hint here today," Grace nodded and guided them to a dusty section in the back of the library.

"Noticed anything weird around town lately? Sketchy newcomers, the smell of sulfur, missing any close friends?" Dean asked, only to be nudged hard by his companion.

"No, nothing like that..." As she spoke the image of black and red eyes flashed through her head and she trailed off.

"But something?" The tall man said with an eyebrow raised.

"Yeah," Grace nodded, feeling reluctant to tell them what she'd seen. "I...I could be crazy. It honestly wouldn't be surprising, because weird doesn't really explain it," She crossed her arms and leaned back against the table behind her, eyebrows knit.

"Sharp teeth? Guy drinking blood in an ally?" Dean asked, only to receive yet another jarring blow from his partner.


	3. Chapter 3

"No," Grace smiled. "Nothing quite as Twilight," Shaking her head, she went about forming the words she'd decided weeks ago not to speak.

"I keep seeing these people. They're always kind of off in the distance and I don't think anyone else ever notices them. Like I said. Pretty sure I'm crazy," She rubbed the back of her neck and smiled sheepishly. "Their eyes are black, but...just for a second. I thought maybe it was just a trick of the light, but it keeps happening. Today I saw a guy who's eyes were red," She watched their expressions and they dropped, which wasn't what she'd expected.

"Crossroads demon," Dean said as if that were the answer to all his problem. The other man narrowed his eyes in curiosity and fixed them on Grace.

"What?" She asked, shocked by how easily something to ridiculous had come out of the man's mouth. She was so at a loss she was almost willing to believe it.

"The man with the red eyes, what did he look like?" The other man asked, leaning towards Grace slightly.

"He...was wearing a suit. All black. Dark hair, scruffy face. Kind of looked like he wanted to harass me and enjoy my suffering," Grace said, suddenly getting the feeling those two knew exactly who she was talking about it.

"Crowley!" Dean growled and fished a phone out of his pocket. He turned away as he dialed.

"Who?" Grace asked, looking back and forth from the two men.

"Damnit, you son of a bitch! Pick up the phone. I know you're here," The longer the moment stretched on the worse Grace felt about the situation.

"Why don't you sit down," The walking skyscraper suggested and pulled out a chair for her. She sat.

"Sam, I'm going to find out what's going on. Fill her in. See if you can find out why demon's are stalking her," Dean said quickly to the other man, Sam apparently, before storming away, clearly a man on a mission. Grace stared after him, feeling like she'd just been hit with a brick. Sam smiled at her apologetically.

"So, the people with black eyes are regular demons and the ones with red eyes are crossroads demons who...make deals with people for their soul?" Grace asked, just to make sure she'd heard everything Sam said right.

"Yes," He nodded.

"And...Crowley, the crossroads demon I saw is the King of Hell?" Every social issue Grace had ever faced melted away as Sam winced and nodded. Again.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," She laughed cynically to herself, one hand partially covering her face.

Grace's life had been mostly hate and loneliness, and all struggle. Now, when things had finally settled into a gentle depression she was sure would slowly eat away at her until she died peacefully and alone in her own silence, demons were here to make things exciting. She felt her chest deflate and leaned back in her chair, the disbelieving smile gone from her face.

"It's okay, Grace. Whatever it is they want from you they're not getting it. Nothing is going to happen to you," Sam reached across the table and squeezed her hand.

"Nothing is going to happen," She repeated, a cold smile on her lips. She met Sam's eyes, pitying him for wasting his energy hoping she met a happy ending.

"No," She shook her head and withdrew her hand from his. "Nothing ever does. If the demons want me, they can have me," Grace stood and wandered lifelessly to the front of the building, ignoring Sam calling after her.

Grace bundled up and left work with no explanation and having no intention of going back, or even going home for that matter. She walked through the cold until she couldn't feel her face, thinking about all the people who had been found dead, drained entirely of blood. If that was how she died, she was okay with that. At least it was exciting. At least it wasn't sitting alone in a hospital bed at eighty, listening to machines beeping and her own rasping breaths, thinking about how wasted her life was.


	4. Chapter 4

Hours later she still found herself skulking around town. Her clothes were damp from snow and she was certain her nose was on the verge of being frost bitten. As the sun sank she made her way to the nearest park. It was the first time since leaving the library that she'd had a destination.

A little girl in a pink coat ran past her from the direction of the playground. She tripped over her clunky snow boots and fell face first into the snow. Grace rushed forward a few paces and helped the girl to her knees.

"Are you okay?" Grace asked, brushing the snow from the girl's red face.

"Yeah," The girl said in a tight voice. It was clear she was trying not to cry.

"Good," Grace replied with a genuine smile and helped her the rest of the way to her feet. The girl took off again in the direction she'd been going. Once reaching her mother she turned back and waved at Grace.

"Thank you!" She called.

"You're welcome," Grace waved back before continuing on her way. The smile lingered on her lips for a moment before fading as the bitterness rushed back into her heart. Any occasion when she got to help a stranger was a little spark of light in the darkness, but those pinpricks weren't enough to convince her she should keep living this life.

She settled herself on a bench, finding no more comfort in sitting than she had in standing. Her eyes lingered on the setting sun, finding little beauty in the colors streaking across the sky. So, instead, she watched the trees, bare and unmoving. Their darkness against the fading light was more comforting.

"Hello, love," The voice came from behind her the second the sun had dipped below the horizon and the sky had darkened to night. Grace stood from the bench and turned around. Standing a few feet away was the crossroads demon, the King of Hell.

"Sorry to keep you waiting. I ran into some unexpected business with the Winchesters," He brushed a bit of snow off his shoulder as he approached. Something about his voice had set Grace's heart alight. It was just like his smile, dangerous and laid back at the same time.

"Sit, please. Don't stand on my account," He said, waving a hand at her as he was suddenly standing right next to her. She sat, eyes still trailing on him. As he walked past her the wind caught his scent and suddenly she was filled with it. His cologne was rich and musky and, for being as on edge as she was, made her want to grab his coat, sink her face into it, and sleep forever.

"Sam and Dean, they were looking for you." Grace wasn't sure why she said it. It was the first thing that came to mind when the demon sat next to her. He was so close she could feel the impossible warmth radiating off his body.

"Ah, so you're acquainted," Grace could hear the irritation ebbing into his voice.

"Barely," Grace said, shaking her head as she stared at her gloved hands.

They were silent for a moment, staring at the scenery. Grace wasn't sure what was supposed to happen now. She hadn't even been certain Crowley was going to find her or what would happen when he did. Maybe he would kill her, drag her to hell, strike a deal. It didn't matter much to her what happened as long as _something_ happened. She couldn't continue living in this purposeless monotony.

"Tell me, love. Do you know who I am?" Grace could feel his eyes boring into her, but she didn't look at him.

"Crowley; a crossroads demon, the King of Hell," Grace responded, the words feeling unreal as they rolled off her tongue.

"Very good. And do you know what it is crossroads demon's do?" He spoke to her as if she were a child, which she didn't appreciate. She didn't care that he was likely hundreds or even thousands of years older than her. She was no child. She wasn't sure she ever really had been.

Finally, she found the courage to look up at him. He stared at her with the same blank expression all the other demons had, but there was something different in his currently human eyes. Still, there was no warning there, just curiosity and intelligence, like he expected her to do something spectacular.


	5. Chapter 5

"What do you want with me? I've been seeing your demons everywhere. I haven't done anything," He smiled at Grace's sudden boldness, taking her chin and lifting it slightly to better look at her face,

"No, love. Don't worry yourself about that. You simply...fascinate me," Grace couldn't help but snort. She took back control of her face and Crowley watched her, looking pleasantly surprised.

"What's so special about _me_?" She asked, practically scowling at the thought. She was as miserable and uninteresting as a person could be. What could make her fascinating to a demon?"

"I'm not sure what it is yet, but you seem to draw demons like a summoning sigil," Grace fought the urge to roll her eyes.

 _Great, that's a wonderful addition to this mess._

"Now, back to my question. Do you know what a crossroads demon does?" Grace sighed and leaned her back against the bench.

"They make deals with humans in return for their souls," She stated plainly, as if it were the most basic piece of knowledge.

"Correct, and given that your soul seems to have a gravitational pull of my men, there must be something special about it. Which makes the though of possessing it all the more tempting. So, tell me, what is it your heart desires? What is your soul worth?" Grace returned her gaze to his eyes. It was clear he wasn't going to take no for an answer. He was going to have her soul one way or another and, to be honest, she wasn't particularly attached to it.

What interested her was his question. _What is your soul worth?_ Realistically, she had no idea. Until today she hadn't even been sure soul's existed. What was the essence of her being worth? Deep down the question was already answered. There was something she had never truly had. Something that, without it, in her opinion, made any kind of life a complete waste of time.

"You can have my soul," She assured Crowley. A catlike smile spread across his face. "But you have to give me a purpose. I don't care if it's in life or in death. I just can't keep on like this," She realized when she stopped that it was almost as if she were begging him to take her soul.

"I think I can find a use for you," Grace was uncomfortable with the tone of his voice, but even if what he had in mind was horrible it would be better than the nothingness she was living in.

"Now," Crowley's hand came up to caress her cheek. "We seal the deal with a kiss. Just a formality," He said with a wink. Grace didn't have much time to be surprised as it was meer seconds before his warm lips were pressed against her. She found herself kissing back instinctively as all the air and warmth was sucked out of her by an unknown force.

"Fascinating," Crowley said again, his mouth still so near to hers that she could feel his words against her skin.

"Grace, no!" She and Crowley both looked in the direction of the voice that was only faintly familiar. Sam and Dean were rushing towards them, snow flying up behind them and fear in their wide eyes.

"Too late boys," Crowley smiled slyly at them, crossed one leg over the other, and wrapped an arm possessively around Grace's shoulders.

That was the first time she felt it. The first time she _could_ have felt it. Whatever Crowley had done it was already taking effect. She _belonged_ to him. She had never felt any more at peace than she was right there, held close by the King of Hell. Though she wasn't exactly sure what her new purpose was, she knew she'd do anything he told her to do. _Anything._

Sam and Dean stopped short, watching in horror. That was the last thing Grace saw before the whole world spun into a blur and she felt as if the ground had fallen out from under her.


	6. Chapter 6

The world came abruptly back into focus and she found herself being set on a bed by Crowley. Vertigo overtook her and she touched her forehead, blinking hard and trying to find her center.

"It will take some time to adjust to that," Crowley said nonchalantly as he removed his coat. Grace picked a vase across the room to fix her gaze and took deep breaths until she felt oriented enough to look around. Crowley was standing in front of the night stand, unbuttoning the cuffs of his sleeves and rolling them up past his elbows.

"Take that off," He nodded towards her, eyeing her coat, before opening the top drawer of the night stand. She slipped off her gloves and stuffed them into her pocket before unzipping her coat and shrugging it off. She set it next to her on the bed and took the time to look around.

It was clear they were in a hotel room, as upscale as it may be. She couldn't imagine how much it must cost to rent the place for a night and, from the look of the place, Crowley had been there for a while. There were papers and empty bottles everywhere. She spotted a bloody hand print on the door frame just before spotting a hauntingly gray arm peeking out from the other room.

"Ignore that. I'll have him disposed of later," Grace's horror jumped from the body to the giant syringe Crowley was examining. Grace crossed her arms tightly around her stomach, afraid to ask what the syringe was for.

Crowley held out his free hand, watching Grace expectantly. She simply stared back, fear clear on her face. "Your arm, pet," Crowley prompted.

"What is it for?" She finally asked, her voice small. Needles had always made her uncomfortable. Knowing they didn't hurt much didn't help. Just the thought of the cold metal beneath her skin made her shudder.

"You can ask your questions later. Now, give me your arm," The impatience was clear in his voice and she didn't want to find out what kind of punishment's the King of Hell would deal to his...pet. Reluctantly, she outstretched her arm, pushing up the sleeve of her sweater as she did so. She looked away as Crowley wasted no time in inserting the needle into her arm. She felt a familiar rush, but wasn't sure if it was liquid going in or liquid coming out. She chanced a glance that nearly lost her her consciousness as she spotted the once clear vial filling with blood.

"That's my girl," Crowley purred after removing the needle from Graces arm. She returned her arm to her lap, clutching at where the needle had been, begging the sensation to fade. Crowley flicked the needle, looking all too pleased with himself before sitting next to Grace on the bed and positioning the needle over his arm. Once again, she looked away.

Only upon hearing the syringe clatter on the nightstand did Grace dare return her gaze to Crowley. His eyelids had drooped and his expression was suddenly solemn.

"You've been in the cold all day. Take a warm shower," He stood, rubbing absently at his injection site. "The bathroom is over there," He pointed to a closed door on the other side of the room. "I'll have clean clothes set out for you," Without even a look in Grace's direction Crowley wandered to the living area of the hotel room and plopped down heavily in an arm chair.

For a moment Grace watched him, trying to wrap her head around what had just happened. This was clearly the purpose he had in mind for her. For whatever reason Crowley needed human blood and having a walking, willing blood bank was better than killing and draining dozens of people. Grace was a blood slave. And she felt no objection to that.

Grace walked into the large bathroom and locked the door behind her only to hear it click back into place when she turned around. She tried again and watched only for it to do the same thing. She wasn't sure if it was the door or Crowley, but decided to leave it alone either way.

Figuring out the settings on an unfamiliar shower was always an unpleasant and unnecessarily complicated experience. This, however, was absurd. Everything was digital and nothing was clearly labeled. Seeing no way to turn the water on without getting wet Grace stripped down and set a fluffy towel out for herself. She stepped inside the marble shower that easily could have fit five people and closed the glass door behind her.

She stood in front of the controls, shifting uncomfortably on her feet. She'd never been fond of being naked in strange places. She pressed what looked like an "on" button and was greeted by blasts of freezing water from all angles. Yelping, she attempted to jump out of the way of the streams. She hugged herself even tighter, resenting the feeling of cold water on her bare skin. She pressed every button she saw until the water reached a nearly unbearably hot temperature.


	7. Chapter 7

She stood under the water for a long time, eyes closed as the jets of water massaged her skin and the steam opened her pores. For the first time in her life, she looked at her future and didn't see struggle or the numbing sting of depression. It wasn't a life of monotony ahead of her. Not anymore.

In the comfort of that thought she was able to take the most satisfying shower she'd ever taken. She opened the shower door, the whole room smelling like lavender and vanilla. She dried herself with a towel that felt like it had never been used and was about to wrap herself in it before spotting the clothing that had been left on the counter sometime during her shower. She was sure then that it had been Crowley who kept the door from locking.

Grace picked up the soft, black pair of underwear that, thankfully, would not be up her ass all night. She tried not to think about Crowley getting them for her or wonder _where_ exactly he'd gotten them as she put them on. The only other article of clothing was a black dress shirt that could only have belonged to Crowley. She picked it up, feeling the satiny texture slip across her fingers as she brought it up to her face. It smelled like him.

Grace put on the shirt, making sure to button it correctly and that she wasn't going to accidentally show more than she meant to. She rolled up the sleeves and fixed the collar, admiring herself in the mirror. The shirt was barely long enough to cover her ass, which would have been ideal had she not been about to go prance around a hotel room with the King of Hell. Her wet hair was so dark it almost looked black and the contrast of her ice blue eyes was stunning.

As Grace was towel drying her hair there was a loud bang, immediately followed by a booming voice.

"Alright, Jabba. Where are you hiding Laia?" Despite the geeky reference the voice was loud and threatening. And unfortunately familiar.

"Oh, not you two again," That was Crowley, an annoyed growl taking over his voice. "She's just gotten out of the shower. I don't suggest you go barging in," Grace opened the bathroom door and peeked out. She could see Dean pointing the nose of a shotgun at Crowley, no doubt with Sam somewhere behind him. Without thought, Grace ran from the bathroom, positioning herself between Dean and Crowley. Both boys lowered their guns slightly.

"Get out of the way, Grace," Dean warned, looking ready to kill whether he had to go through her or not.

"Grace," Sam gestured for her, looking panicked and holding his hand out expectantly.

"You _morons_ ," Crowley stood and placed himself next to Grace, sliding his hand over her back before gripping her shoulder. "Do you have any _idea_ why you're even here?" He asked the boys sharply.

"Stop screwing around, Crowley. We're here for Grace. Now, hand her over," Dean snatched Grace's wrist and before she could react he was across the room, the force of his impact with the wall knocking a painting to the floor.

" _Grace_ will not be going anywhere," Crowley shoved Grace behind him. She clung to his shirt in a panic, prompting him to turn his attention to her momentarily.

"Don't worry yourself, darling," He gently removed her hand and lifted it to his mouth, kissing it before turning back to the problem at hand.

"She sold her soul to you. That means she has ten years of freedom before you can collect," Sam said, now pointing his weapon at Crowley once again.

"I'm afraid you're wrong, Moose. Grace and I have a different sort of deal," Crowley informed him.

"Different how?" Dean groaned as he stood up from where he was crumpled on the floor.


	8. Chapter 8

"Grace belongs to me. Her soul, her body; mine. Now, if the two of you would kindly piss off it would be greatly appreciated!" As he spoke his voice rose to a roar that caused Grace to cower.

"I want to talk to Grace. Alone," Sam insisted, still not looking like he bought the whole thing for a second. Grace could tell Crowley was about to yell again so she stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. He looked back at her, hatred still filling his eyes. She was relieved to know it wasn't for her.

"It's okay. I'll explain," Grace said softly. She stepped to the side and gestured for Sam to follow her. Crowley allowed them to walk to the bedroom, where, if they spoke quietly, they could talk without being heard, but not without being seen.

"What is going on," Sam demanded as soon as they came to a stop.

"He's telling the truth. We made a deal. I don't know the details, but I know I'm his. I can _feel_ it," Grace's face flushed red. She'd gotten carried away and spoken significantly louder than the whisper she'd intended. Crowley was looking at her from across the room, brow slightly furrowed. She shook off his gaze.

"What do you mean? What did you make a deal for?" Sam asked, his voice much quieter, but no less urgent.

"For purpose. I know it sounds stupid, but I've spent my whole life just kind of drifting. I couldn't do it anymore. I wasn't _going_ to do it anymore. When you told me about the demons...I knew it was my way out. They would kill me or possess me or claw out my soul or… _this_ ," She gestured to the room. "But it was _something_ ," She shook her head, brows knitting together as emotion overtook her.

"Do you know what it's like to feel nothing? To never truly be loved by anyone? Sam, my parents didn't give a shit about me. My friends left me. Every boyfriend I've ever had wasn't worth the time wasted on him.

"This morning I was looking in the mirror wondering why I'm still bothering to live. There was no pleasure in it and when I thought about curling up in my bathtub with a knife I felt relieved. Scared, but _relieved_ , Sam," He looked at her, concern pouring from his eyes.

"I know this is a really stupid thing to do...and maybe I'll regret it someday, but now?" Grace swallowed the lump in her throat. "Now I'm just glad to feel something. To not be a useless waste of resources,"

Grace took a deep breath and ran her hand through her hair. It was obvious to everyone watching that a huge weight had been lifted off her chest. Her shoulders relaxed, her arms dangled at her sides, and she didn't try to hide her face or her stomach. For the first time she wasn't trying to curl up into herself.

"Grace...I'm sorry," Sam shook his head, clearly at a loss for words. This wasn't at all where he'd expected the conversation to go.

"It's okay. I'm okay," She took another calming breath before continuing.

"I don't know how you know Crowley. I mean, I don't even know _you_. Not really. I appreciate that you're looking out for me. I really do and if you want to keep checking in that's more than okay with me. But I'm not going anywhere," She met his gaze squarely and she could tell by his drooping expression that she'd gotten her point across.

Sam and Grace nodded to each other and made their way back to Crowley and Dean, who looked like they'd heard every word despite Grace trying to avoid that.

"Let's go, Dean," Sam grabbed Dean's arm and tugged him in the direction of the door.

" _Let's go?_ And leave an innocent girl with Crowley? I don't-"

"Stop!" Grace shouted, surprising not only everyone in the room, but herself as well.

Grace was the kind of person who always had a reign on her emotions. She could only think of a handful of scattered accounts in which she'd risen her voice or flew off the handle. Until right then she didn't even know she could speak so loudly or project her voice in such a way.

"I am not leaving and I am _not_ innocent. I made this choice for myself. You have no claim over me. Crowley _does_. So leave," Grace's voice dropped in volume as she spoke, suddenly all to aware of herself and the three sets of eyes on her. She'd never been one for attention.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean pulled out of Sam's grip and stomped to the door.

"This isn't over," He warned, pointing a finger at Crowley before leaving the hotel room.

"Never," Crowley said, seeming more slightly annoyed than enraged.

Sam pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Grace.

"This is my number. Call me if you need anything,"Grace took it and nodded sincerely. She truly was grateful for his intervention whether it was warranted or not. "Take care of yourself," He left the room, leaving Grace and Crowley in a suddenly deafening silence.

"Well, I think that was quite enough excitement for one night," Crowley said once the door had been closed for a moment. Grace simply hummed in agreement.

She stood in the same place, staring at the business card, suddenly feeling drained.

"Who are they...exactly? How do they know you?" She asked, turning to see that Crowley had made himself comfortable on the couch.

"No, no, no, forget them," Crowley waved away her question. "Come, come," Grace tentatively approached the couch and perched on the edge, setting the business card on the coffee table.

"Don't be shy, darling," Crowley wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her down, partially on top of him. Her back was too him, which she was glad for, considering she was certain her face was as red as humanly possible.

Crowley made himself comfortable and turned on the TV. Gradually, Grace relaxed. She rested her head on his arm and tilted her body in a more comfortable position. He settled on an old black and white movie before setting the remote on the floor and resting his hand on her hip.

As much as she tried to focus on the movie, she couldn't. Too much had happened. In just a few hours her entire life had turned upside down. She had so many questions.

"Crowley?" She spoke up after spending twenty minutes debating on whether or not to speak.

"Hm?" He stroked her hair, humming into it. She could feel the sound reverberating through his chest and against her back.

"Am I...going back to work?" It may not have been important, but it was a start.

"Afraid not, darling. Believe it or not the King of Hell has enemies, which means you have a target on your back," The sound and feel of his voice eased Grace. She melted into him and his arm tightened around her middle. He nudged her neck with his nose and kissed it softly. Her heart thudded in her chest and she couldn't stop all the hair on her body from raising.

"What you said to Moose," Grace tilted her head slightly and he lifted his to see her. "Was all of that true?" Though his face revealed no emotion Grace knew there was something more the curiosity in there somewhere.

"Yeah," She said softly. He hummed again curiously before they both went back to attempting to focus on the film. Eventually Grace fell asleep, never truly paying any attention at all to the film. She slept better than she had in as long as she could remember, nestled against the warmth and protection of the man who held her eternal being in the palm of his hand.

When Grace woke up the next morning she was alone, a blanket tucked around her and the TV still playing some old movie. She lied there peacefully for a few minutes, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and stretching. On the coffee table was a silver platter, cover and all, and a folded piece of paper next to a smart phone. Without moving from under the blanket, she reached out and snagged the piece of paper.

 _I've left to attend to some important matters. In case of emergency, call Moose._

 _-Crowley_

Grace frowned slightly.

Moose? That's what he called Sam, wasn't it?

Grace picked up the phone and turned it on. It had already been set up and there were two phone numbers entered. One for Moose and one for Squirrel. She wasn't sure who Squirrel was, but figured it didn't matter for the time being.


	10. Chapter 10

A knock on the door startled her. She looked at it from across the room, almost not daring to move. Whoever was on the other side pounded harder. Reluctantly, she got up and tip-toed to the door. She raised up on her toes and peeked through the peep-hole. There were too well dressed men on the other side, which gave her a bad feeling. Regardless, she opened the door a crack and peeked out.

"Hello," She said awkwardly as she tried to hide her half naked form behind the door. The nearest man sneered at her.

"Where's Crowley?" Instinctively, Grace started looking around for a weapon. There was a candlestick nearby, but she couldn't possibly have reached it without them noticing.

"He's not here," She said, hoping they would leave, but assuming they wouldn't. Something told her nothing about being affiliated with the King of Hell was going to be easy.

The man growled low in his throat and an unseen force shoved the door in. Grace found herself on the floor with the wind knocked out of her. She pushed herself to a sitting position, gasping for breath as she watched the two men enter the room and make straight for the dead body she'd forgotten was rotting on the floor. One man lifted it over his shoulder while the other swiftly approached Grace. He crouched down and leaned in close to her face, his eyes flashing to black.

"I suggest you learn your place quickly. You are his pet, not his queen," And with that, he was gone and Grace was alone once again.

Grace remained on the floor, catching her breath and wondering what that outburst was for. She hadn't exactly done anything to them. She hadn't even tried to keep them from coming in, though she would have if given the chance.

Once she could breathe again, Grace got to her feet and closed the door, locking it and wishing it had a few extra locking mechanisms. She made her way back to the couch, turned the channel to something more modern, and ate the breakfast that had been set out for her. The French toast was good. It wasn't worth the twenty-five dollars she saw it cost after looking over the menu, but it was good.

After breakfast and a few episodes of some hospital based sitcom she decided to pick up the place. There were papers strewn everywhere and she tried to read them as she picked them up. They were covered in sigils and seals and runes she couldn't begin to decipher. Despite the fact she couldn't understand what she was looking at she spent a good deal of time staring at the symbols. She'd always loved things old and mysterious and these took the cake.

After stacking all the papers on the coffee table and picking up empty whiskey bottles and broken glass, there wasn't much left for her to do. She flipped through the channels on TV, but found she couldn't focus on any one thing. She decided after a while it would be nice to have some pants which brought up the question; where was she?

After a short search she found a little brochure for the hotel. It was in the same town in which she lived, which made sense. It hadn't taken long for Sam and Dean to catch up with them the other night. She located it on Google Maps with her phone. Her apartment building was on the other side of town. It wouldn't be too much of a hassle to get there, but…

Grace looked down at her bare legs and feet. She imagined herself shrugging into more of Crowley clothes and shuffling across town in the cold. Not only would she look like an idiot, but she would be freezing. She sat for a while, debating on how important it really was to have pants, but realized she was going to be around for a while and had no clue when Crowley was coming back or if she was even allowed to leave.

Eventually, she picked up the phone and called Sam.

"Hello?"

"Sam, it's Grace,"

"Grace! Is everything okay?" She could imagine the look of worry on his face.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Are you nearby, by any chance?" She asked hopefully. She hated to bother him for something so...basic, but it was worth a shot.


	11. Chapter 11

"Yeah, we're at a motel just outside the city,"

"Okay, good. So, I was wondering if maybe you could go to my place and pick up a few things for me. I'd go myself, but...the only clothes here that aren't Crowley's are the underwear I'm wearing and I'm not sure I'm even allowed to leave," Grace was once again struck with the question of where the underwear came from. Did he take them from someone's room? Did he buy them? Did he create them in an instant with some kind of demon magic?

"Ah...that might be a problem,"

"Why?" Wherever this was going, Grace knew it wasn't going to be good.

"It was on the news this morning. Your apartment, _just_ yours, went up in flames and, ah, everyone kind of thinks you're dead," There was a short pause before Grace groaned and palmed her face.

"Now what am I supposed to wear? What if someone else shows up here? I'm not a playboy bunny," She complained more to herself than to Sam. The fact that everyone thought she was dead was irrelevant to her. There was no one to miss her.

"We could pick you up a few things-"

"No, no, I can't ask you to buy me clothes," She sighed heavily.

"We'll be there in an hour,"

"Sam-"

He hung up the phone before she could protest. Grace sighed and let her hands fall to her lap. She had always hated to impose on people. She didn't like to ask for help and she especially didn't like to ask for, or even be given, money. She liked to at least think she could take care of herself to some degree.

Resigning herself to her current predicament Grace rose her phone back to eye level and began looking for some form of entertainment. Half an hour into playing some puzzle game there was a knock on the door, this one much more tentative than the last. Grace scampered to the door once again and peered outside to find Sam and Dean waiting.

"That was quick," Grace noted as she opened the door for them, stepping aside so they could enter the room.

"Yeah, well, good luck I suppose," Sam said with a tight smile. "Coffee?" He held a cup to her and she took it, nodding graciously.

"Pants?" Dean spoke next, holding out a pair of black, oversized sweat pants.

"Yes, thank you," She eagerly took and stepped into them. They were just barely snug enough on her hips to not fall off. Dead handed her a cotton shirt and she took it as well, though realized that she was reluctant to remove Crowley's.

"So," Sam trailed off as he paced.

"What are you to Crowley, huh?" Dean interjected, having in qualms with getting straight to the point. "Slave, pet, secret weapon, what?" Grace looked at him for a moment, staring into her stern face and hard eyes.

"You're exhausting," She stated before promptly walking away and plopping down on the couch.

"Look, I don't know what you expect me to say. I'll tell you what I know. I made a deal with Crowley for a purpose. Life or death; it didn't matter. He said he could make use of me and we made the deal. There was no explanation," She felt like she had been over this a million times.

"And you didn't question it?" Dean asked, reminding Grace how stupid he thought she was without saying it directly.

"No, I didn't," Her ability to tolerate him was wearing thin.

"So...what's happened since then? Has he...used you for anything?" Sam asked, obviously willing to be more reasonable.


	12. Chapter 12

Grace looked at him, realizing how bad what she said was going to sound to them. Even Sam wasn't going to let this one go.

"Blood and a body pillow," She said quickly, hoping to move things along quickly.

"Blood?" Dean held a hand out and leaned in slightly, looking at her through narrowed eyes. He looked like it was so absurd he couldn't comprehend what she'd said.

"What did he want with your blood?" Sam asked, taking on about the same expression and looking just as ready to pounce as Dean.

Grace shrugged. "He drew my blood with a syringe. He keeps it in the night stand," Grace pointed and Sam ran into the bedroom, taking out the kit just to see that it was there. "And then he injected it into himself," Surprisingly, the room was silent.

Grace curled up, hugging her arms around her knees. She nudged her nose against her shoulder, the scent of Crowley still lingering. She suddenly felt tired and empty, like a piece of her had been ripped out.

"What does he need your blood for?" Sam asked, seeming to trail off as a realization dawned on him.

"Human blood. The...the trials. Crowley was..." Sam swallowed hard, his eyes suddenly wide and befuddled.

"What trials?" Grace asked, only looking moderately interested. The sudden presence of Crowley's scent had dulled her senses. All she could do with focus was ache for Crowley in his absence. She rubbed the center of her chest, almost feeling a physical absence there.

"That doesn't matter," Dean insisted.

"Are we really going to let Crowley use some poor idiot as his blood slave? When it is far enough, Sammy?" Pain lanced through Grace's heard and she was on her feet before she even knew why.

"You will not touch him," She said slowly. Every muscle in her body was tensed. She'd never laid a violent hand on a single human being, but she was more than willing to do it then. It didn't require consideration.

Dean's spine straightened and something in his face changed. It wasn't fear and it wasn't surprise, but it was something. Like someone had flipped a switch, Grace felt herself relax. A hand touched her shoulder.

"Crowley," She breathed, not even having to look to know it was him.

"Curious," He took her chin, turning her head and tipping it up so that he could look into her face. "You can sense my presence. And the attack dog bit," His eyebrows rose. "Impressive," Until that moment, Grace hadn't realized the full extent of the tole his absence had taken on her. She quickly came to the conclusion that from now on being alone wasn't going to be particularly tolerable.

"The two of you can leave now. Daddy's home," He stepped away, leaving Grace to get a hold of herself.

"Why are you shooting human blood like a damn junkie?" Dean demanded, taking a step closer to Crowley, who was pouring himself a drink.

"I don't suppose that's any of your business, now is it?" His voice was tight, all the sly mirth seeming to have slipped out of it. He poured a second glass and sauntered back to Grace's side, extending a glass to her. She took it. The taste of whiskey wasn't something she was in any way fond of. The effects, however, were a different story.

"Wait, wait," Crowley lowered her arm before she could take a sip, producing a syringe from his jacket. "It's better when it's pure," Grace blanched a bit, clenching and unclenching her fist. Was she afraid of the King of Hell, no. But needles? Those she would rather avoid.

"Don't fuss, love," He set both of their glasses aside. "It doesn't hurt does it? Just a little prick, yeah" Grace nodded and offered her arm.

"Oh for the love of god. Not in front of us!"Dean exclaimed.


	13. Chapter 13

"You're more than welcome to leave, Squirrel," Crowley paused for a moment, just long enough to give Dean a sidelong glance.

Grace sucked in a breath as the needle entered her arm, letting it out slowly with the extraction of her blood. When it was over she flexed her fingers and shook her arm, trying to get the normal feeling back in her arm.

"Why are your doing this, Crowley. Huh? I'm sure being on the verge of humanity feels great. The pain, the food, the sex. But what about Abbadon? I'm sure being human is making killing her a hell of a lot easier," Dean shouted from across the room.

"It's your fault I'm in this mess to begin with!" Crowley howled. "If you two hadn't locked me up in that god-forsaken shit hole of a bunker and pumped me full of the stuff we wouldn't be standing here!" The two glasses of whiskey shattered, causing Grace to jump slightly. The feeling was suddenly incredibly annoying.

"Now look what you've done," Crowley gestured exaggeratedly at the mess on the table.

"You should leave," Grace said firmly. "I'm sorry I called you. Thank you for the coffee...and the pants," She nodded at Sam, not willing to even look at Dean. She ignored the mindless arguing as Sam managed to convince Dean to leave.

"Take those off," Crowley tugged at the loose pocket of Grace's sweatpants. "They reek of Dean Winchester," He snapped his fingers, banishing the broken glass and spilled alcohol as he strode back to the decanter.

"But they're-"

"I said take them off!" Crowley spun on Grace and she sunk into herself. She didn't waste a second in taking off the sweatpants and folding them neatly. She stood back, eyeing them from where they sat on the couch. Now she was cold, cornered, and unsure.

She watched as Crowley poured himself another drink and took a sip before shrugging off his coat, loosening his tie, and rolling up his sleeve. Grace started to turn away, but suddenly found herself rooted to the spot.

"You will watch. No pet of mine is going to be squeamish," Grace remained frozen as Crowley approached her again. He looked perfectly calm and perfectly serious, which seemed like more of a danger than his usual playfulness.

He stopped in front of her at such a proximity that she had no choice, but to look. He pushed the needle into his arm slowly, as if he enjoyed it. She watched, swallowing thickly as her blood drained into his vein. He withdrew the needle, a small bead of blood marking the injection site. He tossed the syringe aside where it landed harmlessly on the couch. It took a moment for the effects of her blood to take. She could see the muscles in his face relax and feel his overwhelming energy ebbing.

Grace found herself released, stumbling slightly at the change. Crowley released a breath through his nose and rubbed his temples.

"I'm sorry, pet," He stepped forward, cupping Grace's cheek and rubbing his thumb under her eye. "I didn't mean to yell. It's those Winchesters," He spat their name like a curse and Grace winced slightly. Dean she understood, but Sam? Well, chances were his caring had gotten in Crowley's way at one time or another.

"Now, how about that drink," Grace kept her distance for the time being. She had wanted to believe that things would be all good between the two of them. She would do what he asked and he would treat her well because of it. Now she realized that wasn't going to be the case. He was still a demon and one powerful enough to become king. As much as she wanted to give in completely to her undeniable feelings towards him she had to keep in mind that he _was_ dangerous and that she _was_ disposable.

She shifted, rubbing her arm and looking around the room while Crowley poured her a drink. Her eyes landed on Dean's sweatpants. She wanted nothing more than to put them on. They were big and baggy and cozy. She didn't particularly like Dean...but his pants were another story.


End file.
